


Intentions

by spiderfire



Series: Honor Guard [2]
Category: The Graveyard Book - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Gen, Misses Clause Challenge, Mythical Beings & Creatures, POV Character of Color, POV Female Character, POV Original Character, POV Outsider, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 23:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5516636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiderfire/pseuds/spiderfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody came back to the graveyard, wishing he could speak with his mother one more time, to tell her of the woman whom he had loved and lost.  Kaaliya came to the graveyard following a news story, or perhaps chasing a dream.   Neither expected what they found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intentions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Argyle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argyle/gifts).



The graveyard at the top of the hill was large enough that as I wandered through its winding paths, the noise of the Old Town beyond the cast-iron fence faded into the joyous cacophony of birds nesting in the trees. Sirens and horns were lost in the rustle of leaves. Even the airplanes that soared overhead were inaudible.

Because I was very quiet, I caught a glimpse of a fox kit that lived in the unkempt thickets in the far corner. He stood brazenly next to a headstone, his oversized ears perked in outright astonishment at my passing, until the feral tomcat patrolling the bushes scolded him for his audacity. 

In recent years the Friends of the Graveyard had been documenting the wildlife that lived within the iron picket fence in an effort to get the graveyard put on the National Registry. Indeed, that is why I was there on that day. (At least, that is what I told myself. The real reason was too strange, even for me.) I had heard of the struggle between the Friends of the Graveyard and the Quillings family and I came to check this pocket of wild space out.

The Quillings family was prominent in town. Old man Quillings had once served as mayor and his son was captain of the police force. The current charge seemed to be led by his granddaughter, Maureen, who had left town to go to school. She came back with big ideas for development and progress. Maureen Quillings argued that parts of the graveyard could be demolished, that new office space would bring business to the town and that would be good for all. She had proposals. Blueprints. It was all very convincing. 

The Friends of the Graveyard, on the other hand, argued that the National Registry would mean money for upkeep. It would mean tourists and birders who would come to town and in search for the wildlife. It would mean scientists who would study the growth of the rare _Hedera macabrey_ that flourished so successfully along the winding Egyptian Walk. It would mean money for the restaurants and hotels in town, and that would mean more jobs and that would be good for all. 

I was not of this town and I did not have a bone in this fight. I did not really care what became of this graveyard but, for my own reasons, I sought out the pockets of wild nestled into the folds of modern life. In recent weeks and months, I had often felt as if I was surrounded but a darkness that pressed in on me from all sides. It was encompassing, overwhelming and only the calm of wild pockets like this one gave me relief. It had taken me the better part of a day to get here, via train and then bus and finally on foot. As I walked the stink of the passage and the press of the unknown receded and I began to feel like myself again. 

I had been there for some hours when I first became aware of the man. I was not exactly lost but I had gotten turned around. It was going to take me some time to find the graveyard’s gate again. Not that I was in any hurry. 

I ignored him at first. I was watching the late afternoon sun playing on green leaves. The leaves were silhouetted against a vibrant blue sky and he was easy to ignore. But, as dark gathered, I found myself drawn closer. When finally I stepped into the clearing where he had been for the last hand-span of time, I found that he was sitting on the ground, cross-legged. His head was bowed and he his fingers dug into the grass. He was facing a rusted iron door in the hillside, the entrance to a crypt. There was something written on the door, but in the fading light I could not make it out. 

He was dressed plainly in worn jeans and a much-laundered grey shirt that had probably once been black. He was wiry and he had the kind of mousy brown hair that everyone seemed to have in this part of the world, except those who didn’t. As I stepped into the clearing, he looked up. The expression on his face was unmistakable - a sorrow so deep that tears provided no relief. It was a look that I had seen before. Humans wore that look when they were holding out a last, desperate hope for something beyond improbable, and then they found that hope dashed. 

Sometimes, this was why I was drawn to a place. Powerful emotions drew me in, like a moth to the flame. However, I knew this was not the reason that I had come here today. This was providence. 

The man’s expression held such pain. I could not help but come closer. 

When he looked at me, he saw the face I showed the world – the face of a slight young woman with light brown skin and black hair. I was dressed in a silky blue _sari_ with the _pallu_ hiding most of my hair. My left nostril had a simple stud and I wore a _bindi_ between my eyes. 

He didn’t say anything, so I took a step closer. He seemed to draw back, as if the ground would allow him to sink between its grains, but of course it did not. I crouched down next to him. The fabric of my _sari_ spread out in a blue puddle around my legs. I put a hand on his shoulder. 

I gasped as the emotional turmoil in his soul hit me. The energy coursed through me, and it made me feel alive. I closed my eyes for a moment, swaying on my toes as I absorbed the blast. My touch brought him some relief, and when I opened my eyes, he was sitting up straighter, looking at me with a mix of curiosity and caution. “What did you do?” he asked, pulling away. 

I looked at the gravestone that he had been looking at. It was clearly centuries old. How could something so old cause such a young man such tumult? I met his eyes. “Nothing that time would not do,” I said softly, letting my voice lilt. “Would you tell me about it?” 

He looked back at the grave. Then, he said, “Her name was Julie.”

 _Julie_ , I thought. A first love, perhaps. 

After a moment he continued, “I had no idea I could feel like that about a person. Food actually tasted better when I was with her. The sky was a different color of blue.” I smiled at him, encouraging him to go on. “And now, she’s gone.” 

He clenched his hands and his fingers dug into the grass and dirt. His eyes took on a distant hue and he said, under his breath, “I wish you could have met her, mother.” 

I looked from the man to the man to the gravestone again. How could this be? The man was human, that was clear. How could his mother be buried here? I looked at his hands. Perhaps her ashes had been scattered on this grass? He continued, “It was stupid. A car…”

He went on but my attention was interrupted by the approach of … of … The man did not hear them, not yet, but there were three … they were not human…nor were they the same. Footsteps. A man and a dog? Overhead a large shape soared, driven forward by wings that beat slow and rhythmically. Alarmed, I stood and faced their approach. The fabric of my _sari_ swirled around my body, taking on the texture of mist, for a moment, before it settled back into fabric. The man looked up as I moved.

“Asuri,” said the deep voice of the tall creature that walked into the clearing first. He was shaped as a man. He wore a black overcoat that billowed around his body, but I could see the shimmering oily taint of his _Ātman_ that marked him a _vetala_. Flanking him on his right was not a dog but a large cat, perhaps a lynx. 

At my side, the man sprang to his feet. “Silas!” he exclaimed. The surge of joy that burst from him set me back on my heals and I swayed under its power. 

The _vetala_ held out a hand and the man next to me stilled. “Asuri,” the _vetala_ said again, addressing me, “What have you done here?” 

I looked from the _vetala_ to the man and back. Suddenly, the dreams that had been haunting me over the last year came into a clear focus. The sense of dread, the press of people, refugees fleeing…fleeing… The terrible loss. Facing the blackness, driving it back, had been five figures. They were blurry and undefined: a flash of white, a flash of blue, a snarl, and a shout. But, at their center was a pillar of power in a swirling black cloak. My eyes widened as I looked back at the _vetala_.

There was a flurry of feathers and a swan swooped out of the sky. Swirling her wings around her body, a woman in a white feathery cloak stood next to the _vetala_. The man at my side stepped back in astonishment, his mouth opening and closing. 

Looking at her, I remembered the dream that had brought me here. For a week, I had woken up, remembering a woman in a white cloak who had asked me to meet her here, in this graveyard, on this day. 

“My name,” I said to the _vetala_ , “is Kaaliya. I am….what I am. Few of the _asura_ would count me in their number, anymore.” 

The _vetala_ who was apparently named Silas, smiled, a strange smile that filled his eyes but did not touch his mouth. Next to me, the man took a step back. I could feel his astonishment take on an edge of fear. “Very well, Kaaliya,” he said. “Tell me, what you have done to this man?” 

I looked at the man. He was looking from me to Silas to the swan woman and back. “I relieved his pain,” I replied, looking side-eyed at Silas. Indeed, that is what I did. Nothing more. I did not dampen his joy, or quiet his longing, though it would have sweetened the bitter remnants of the grief. I do not do that, not anymore. I survived on anger and fear and overwhelming torment, made palatable by the gentle touch of the trees and insects and birds on my mind. 

“And?” 

I frowned, remembering an old story, of how Shiva and Vishnu fought and warred in their youth, threatening to destroy all that Brahma had brought fourth. In their childish battles, Shiva created the beings whose only purpose was to create destruction and Vishnu created beings whose only purpose was to create meaningless jumbles. In desperation, as Shiva and Vishnu battled and lost their purposes, Brahma called forth five warriors to protect the boundary of _what is_ from _what must not be_. 

I looked around the clearing, counting five beings. Silas the _vetala_ , the swan-woman, the lynx, the man and me. I remembered the dream, the flash of white, the flash of blue, the snarl, and the shout. Suddenly my eyes flew open. For a moment, I lost hold of my pattern and my _sari_ became mist around me. “You are _mariyātai pātukāppu_?” I asked, my voice wavering. 

The lynx made a yowling sound that could only have been a laugh as he turned to the swan-woman. The swan-woman laughed in reply, a funny honking sound that was nothing like the grace she wore as a cloak. “You are right, of course,” she said to the lynx. “How was I to know that _heiður vörður_ was more than just a myth of the Surtsey?” 

The wolf rolled his eyes. Silas looked between his companions, to the man and then back at me. “We five have much to speak about. But not yet. Would you go with Hávær, Kaaliya?” he gestured to the swan-women. “I must speak with young Mr. Owens alone.” 

“Silas?” the man began to ask, but Silas held his hand up. 

“I am so sorry, Bod,” Silas replied. “I never wanted this for you.” 

Kaaliya the swan woman took my arm and started to draw me away from them. As we left the clearing, I heard the man say, “Silas, I do not understand.” 

The lynx followed, circling around us as we walked. My head was full of questions. Who was the man? What was I to Brahma’s Honor Guard? What were the meanings of the dreams that had been haunting me? The waves of people, the oppressive darkness suffocating like a pillow pressed across my face? 

Hávær drew me over to a bench and we sat. The lynx sat facing us. He watched us, his ears perked and alert. “Kaaliya,”she said. “We have a tremendous request,” she said. 

“Do you intend to stand against the darkness?” I asked. 

The lynx and the swan-woman looked at each other and then back at me. “We do,” she said. 

“Then count me in.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cutting it close! Posted this ten hours before the collection opened.


End file.
